Revelations
by Phoenix II
Summary: When Kyle accidentally reveals his attractions, will a strange accident reveal that Stan feels the same way, or drive the Super Best Friends apart?  Style.
1. Chapter 1

Revelations

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: When Kyle accidentally reveals his attractions, will a strange accident reveal Stan feels the same way, or drive the Super Best Friends apart? Style.

Author's Notes: Yet ANOTHER MSN oneshot. This one was…fun. Despite the dialogue. Especially since I got to write for Stan. …and yet this story is Kyle's POV. Well, because he has more thought in his…so nyah. Anyway, read and review please!! And the new chapter of AMVMC should be up Friday night or Saturday, maybe.

-.-

"Look at my hot ass!" I say, naked from the waist down, shaking it around while I rummage through my underwear drawer for a fresh pair of boxers the morning after a heated round of lovemaking with Stan.

In the mirror, I can see Stan drool.

"You know you want it!" I say teasingly, giving it another little shake.

"Um...duh?" he says, with a goofy little grin.

"You're too easily amused!" I chuckle.

"I can't help it if I want to wear your ass as a hat for all eternity!!"

"I'm sure you'd rather do more…"

"Till we're sixty and too old and wrinkly to do 'That' anymore," he says. "Then it's ass-as-a-hat time!"

"Well until then…" I say, dropping the fresh pair of boxers and turning to face him with a sexy grin lighting up my face. He comes up to give me a kiss. The kiss soon becomes a repetition of what we'd done the previous night…

…and then I wake up, hard as hell and alone in my bed.

"Ah, crap," I tell myself, rubbing my eyes to look around at my dark room. It's a little after midnight. "It was just another dream..." I tell myself, sadly.

"Whatsadream?" Stan's voice comes from the floor next to me. Oh, fuck…he's sleeping over tonight. Oh, THIS is just fucking WONDERFUL. The one person I DIDN'T need to be having faggy fantasies about tonight, and he's IN MY ROOM after I wake up FROM one of those fantasies…quick, make up an excuse, damnit, Kyle!!

"Ah, crap..." I reply. "Nothing!" Oh, yeah, GENIUS, Kyle…you fucking R-TARD!

He snickers. "Did you wet yourself, Kyle?"

I look down, surveying my situation. It's not good. I've got definite tentage going on. Oh Christ... Oh God... Buddha, Allah, Moses, ANYONE, HELP ME!! "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," I reply, in another display of genius.

"Did you have a Very Good Dream, Kyle?" he asks, teasingly. Oh, if only you knew the half of it, Stan…actually, wait, much better that you DON'T.

"_DON'T LET HIM KNOW!_" my mind screams at me. I have an absolute deer-in-the-headlights look on my face, which apparently gives Stan all the answer he needs.

He sits up and pulls his pillow to chest like a teenaged schoolgirl. It's things like that which set my heart all atwitter. "So?" he asks. "Who was it? Do I know her? Is she hot? Has Kenny got her yet? Do you like her in RL? Do we have any classes together?"

"Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." I fumble, deciding to just play along with his heterosexual assumptions, "you know 'her', 'she' is HOT, Kenny had bloody well NEVER get 'her' or I'll fucking murder him, and we DO have classes together..."

"So? Who? What'd you two do?" he asks, sounding quite enthralled.

"I haven't done anything, sadly."

"Then why are you so worried, or happy, or whatever the fuck you are?"

Intelligent questions from Stan? AH CRAP!! "I, uhhhhh..." I begin. I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT!!

"Oh, c'mon, I can see your boner plain as day. Spill, buddy! What'd you two do in that fun dream of yours?"

"ARGHHHHHHHHHH IT'SNOTAGIRL!!" I scream, out of pure frustration before I realize what I said. Oh shit. I was meant to think that part. Well, bye-bye Stan, it's been GREAT knowing you…

"OK. So, you're going gay on me, then? Alright, that's cool...still...what'd that guy do to make you so happy and embarrassed to wake up in a room with me?"

"You don't care that I'm gay?" I ask, the astonishment plain on my face.

"'Course not. Why would I?"

"Uhh... I-i-i dunno... just thought it may be a lil odd if you found out your best friends gets a boner seeing you and-"

Oh, Jesus Christ, I _DIDN'T_, did I? No. No I didn't…oh, son of a BITCH, I !!

"Oh, it was ME? Well..." he says, with a rather pointed cough, "that...explains...a lot..." he says, coughing again. I can tell without looking that he's pointedly NOT looking at me now.

"Yeah," I admit, pulling the blankets over my head. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he says. "You can't help who you wanna fuck..." he adds, sadly, I think. I also think HE'S thinking. Probably something like "How do I let him know that I'd really rather not do HIM?"

I sniffle. "I know you don't feel the same," I say. "I'm sorry," I apologize again, "and now things are gonna be all awkward and weird, and we'll drift apart…" I say, pausing for another sniffle. "I don't want that...I-" I cut myself off. I don't think I should say it. Normally I wouldn't, but now? Might as well, now. "I love you…"

"Oh, GODDAMNIT!" he exclaims. "Ohhhhhhh...why'd you have to saay thaaaaaaat!?! Why couldn't you just lie and tell me it was a chick that would make Kenny explode on sight and she let you play with her titties and stuff? Goddddddddddddd...sleepovers are ruined too, I have to be on the floor until the end of time now..."

"I guess so... I'm so sorry..." I sniffle again. God I'm pathetic… "Just forget it. Just say it was a bad dream in the morning OK?" I say, rolling over, and sniffle again, fighting to hold back tears. Way to go, you stupid fucking moron!

From the muffled noises behind me, I deduce that Stan is trying to smother himself in the pillow. "ARRRRRRGH! I can't just remember it like that, my mind spends all night thinking about the last thing on it when I go to sleep! Why don't your pillows kill!?!"

"Fine, I'll give you something else to think about, I HATE YOU! There! If it's that bad, I'll go sleep on the couch so you're not scared I'll rape you in your sleep!" I shout, jumping out of bed, grabbing a pillow and blanket and walking out.

"It's YOUR goddamn bed! If anyone's sleeping on your couch it's me!!" he exclaims, grabbing his own pillow and blanket and chasing after me.

"But you're the guest! You need to be comfy," I say. First the revelation, and now this. It'll be the last sleepover, I bet…

"But it's your Goddamn house!! Besides, how could I sleep on a bed that I know you've had countless dreams about me...us...in? It'd be creepy! Let me on the couch!!"

"I'm a clean person and change sheets, you know!!" I exclaim, before a dark, nagging voice in the back of my mind pipes up. "_Forget it, he doesn't wanna be near you_," it says. I sigh. "Ok... sleep where you want!" I feel tears coming on again.

"Fine, I will!!" he exclaims, walking to pass me down the stairs. What happens next, I'll never forget. He entangles his foot in the blanket I'm carrying and slips, tumbling down the stairs...pulling me along when he tries to grab onto me to steady himself. "SHIT!!! OW, FUCK!" he exclaims as we tumble down the stairs. Eventually, our small pile ends up at the bottom of the stairs, with Stan on top of me … and with his lips on top of mine.

"_DON'T DO ANYTHING, IT'S NOT A KISS!!_" the voice insists.

But, his lips … on mine...him on top of me…

"_NO, NO, NO! HE ALREADY FEELS AWKWARD!! DON'T MAKE IT WORSE THAN WHAT IT IS!!!_"

This could be my one and only chance!

"_DON'T FUCK IT UP MORE THAN WHAT YOU'VE DONE ALREADY!!_"

He hates me anyway. I'd best make the most of it. Moving ever-so-slightly, I softly "kiss" him.

He stiffens. Just freezes up for a second, his eyes wide, before he pulls away sharply, leaving me puckered up. "GROSS, dude!!" he shouts. "That's fucking SICK!! Just...no! Go upstairs! Bad Kyle! Bad, bad Kyle!!" he shouts, trying to stand and get away, but he slips on the blanket and falls back down onto me, inadvertently kissing me again.

"_SEE WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED? DON'T DO IT AGAIN!!!_" the voice screams.

But... he's on me again...

"_DO YOU WANT HIM TO HATE YOU AND BE MORE PISSED AT YOU MORE THEN WHAT HE ALREADY IS?_"

What if it's a sign?

"_HOW COULD THIS POSSIBLY BE A SIGN!?!_"

He was brought back to me again, maybe fate is trying to make him understand...

"_OH GOD, YOU SEE TOO MANY MOVIES!! HE. ISN'T. GAY!!_"

But, this feels so right...

"_NOT GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!_"

…I'm not either, I have never seen anyone but him.

"_HE ISN'T INTERESTED!!_"

Maybe he's in denial. I need to make him see. I try kissing him again.

This time, he begins vocally protesting. "Goddamnit, no!!" he shouts. "Get me out of here, freak!! Goddamnit, Jew! GET ME OUT OF NYAH!!"

I pull back and away from him as if I've been burned. "_TOLD YOU!!_"

"Get me the FUCK out of these sheets and just...go upstairs. I'll see you in the morning...I guess..." He looks stricken. Probably wondering why it has to be HIM that I'm attracted to. Truth is, I don't really know myself. I remain seated at the bottom of the stairs, tears streaming down my face. "Goddamnit, JEW!"?! How could he? How could he say something like that? He sounded like fucking CARTMAN! How could he DO that to me? He knows I'm sensitive about my Judaism… I've always been sensitive about my Judaism…and I want him to touch my Judaism…maybe that's it. He called me freak, Jew, and talked like Cartman. Why is he so afraid of me?

He's nesting on the couch, and when he looks at me, he speaks coldly, colder than it must be outside. "I thought I told you to go back upstairs."

I don't plan on moving any time soon. I think I have been literally broken. The person who up until five or ten minutes ago was my best friend in the whole world has turned into an anti-Semitic, homophobic, out-and-out bastard. And I don't understand it. I do not understand it.

"Go upstairs, Kyle. Get out of my sight," he says.

I don't move an inch. It's not that I don't want to. I don't want to be anywhere near this monster that's taken over my Stan. But at the same time, I honestly don't think I'll ever be able to move. I've been hurt more than I thought possible for a single human being to be hurt by another person.

"Outta my sight!!" he orders. "I don't wanna fucking look at you right now!!"

I've still got nothing. I take no pleasure in defying the orders of this bastard. I DON'T want to be here. I want to be as far away from here as possible. Why can't I move? Why can't I talk? Why am I just sitting here, up against the front wall of my OWN GODDAMN HOUSE, silent as a mute?

"You stubborn son of a bitch...and I mean that literally, for you...do I have to come over there and physically kick your ass all the way upstairs?"

I look him in the eyes. They're as cold as ice, sharp as steel. He's trying to intimidate me. That's his intimidation look. But that's not Stan…that's not the boy I love. That's just…God, I don't know. But it's NOT Stan. He's terribly angry, and I don't think it's too hard to guess why.

"Goddamnit, I don't want to have to hurt you...but I will if you don't GET OUTTA MY SIGHT!!" Well…at least he does KIND of care about me. It's a thinly-veiled threat, but I can't help but think there's underlying feelings. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he does feel something for me. Maybe it's just platonic, but he won't hurt me.

Softly, barely audible, even in the midnight silence that pervades this sleeping house, I murmur "Nothing can hurt me now..."

His tone turns dark, in addition to the chill. "Do you really wanna bet your looks on that? I could break that nose in eight different places with one blow. Those cheekbones? Easy pickings. I could break every bone in your body in ten minutes. And I'll start if you're not up those stairs in two."

"Do what you want." He won't. He really won't. If he was gonna, he would've by now. Violence has always been a last resort for Stan, and even with this monster inhabiting his body, he won't hurt me unless I threaten him with a gun or something. And I don't have a gun. If I had a gun, I prolly would've shot myself by now. This hurts more than ANYTHING he could physically do to me. I dunno if he's ever had his heat broken into millions of pieces by the one HE loves, but it's not a pain that can be duplicated.

"You'd let me hurt you like that? Break your leg bones so you can't walk? Break your arm bones so you can't fight me back? Break your jaw so you can't speak? Break your ribs so you can't breathe? Break your skull? Break your nose? Break your SPINE? All because I don't want to fuck you up the ass? I've given you a chance, Kyle. You could just walk away right now, nothing else said." There's something in that voice that's just PLEADING with me to walk away. So that he can still save face without beating me up. So he can tell anybody that the faggy Jew turned tail and ran when he was threatened with a beating. Well fuck that, I'm staying right here. I know he won't be able to hurt me.

"So this is what you do to a person when you find out they love you. You're threatening to kill me. And isn't it amazing, I still don't feel any different. I couldn't care right now if you do what you say you want to do." I simply don't understand what's happened to him. That's not Stan... Why is he being so cold about this? What did I do to make him go from all accepting to wanting to fucking kill me!?!

"Then you're insane. Get up the stairs before I start swinging."

"Yeah, _I'm_ insane. Says some guy who's threatening to kill me!" I say, getting up, and heading towards the front door. "I don't know what your problem is, but the Stan I know wouldn't be threatening to kill his best friend!" With that, I walk out into the cold February night. Shit, it's cold out here!!

"Get back in your house!!" he screams. I don't listen. Why should I?

"Kyle, you stupid fucker, get back in here!"

I continue not listening, and go out further into the cold night. I know I won't last long, but oh well…

"You're gonna catch pneumonia! You're gonna kill yourself! You're only in boxers and a tee-shirt! This is South Park! In February!! Kyle!!"

"Then I'll make my death quicker and easier for you!" I retort, shivering.

"Pneumonia's not QUICK! It's long, drawn out, painful! You gurgle fluid from your lungs for weeks before you just stop breathing!! It'd be even worse than watching Kenny with his muscular dystrophic disease! Kyle, you bastard, would you REALLY put the one you love through that!?!" Oh wonderful, he's learned how to guilt trip. But I'm not going to fall for it. He doesn't give enough of a shit about me to care if I live or die or gurgle fluid from my lungs for weeks before ceasing to breathe and die.

"You've proven you don't care," I tell him.

"What, just because I don't want to fuck you, that means I can't care for your well-being?" Yep. Exactly. If you're not going to be in a relationship with me, my well-being isn't your problem, you stupid asshat!!

"THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME WANTING YOU TO FUCK ME YOU SELFISH PRICK!! OK, YES, IT'S WHAT I WANT, BUT IF YOU DON'T, FINE!" I shout at him from halfway down my sidewalk. I'm actually amused at how sappy I sound, like the girl from all those stupid ass romance movies I've secretly watched ever since I knew I was gay. "BUT I LOVE YOU!! I ALWAYS THOUGHT WE WERE MEANT TO BE! But I was wrong. All those moments… I thought they may have meant something, apparently not. And as for 'fucking me up the ass?' I'd never want 'sex' from you. I'd only want love from you. Don't think me so low, Stan..."

"You've been watching Brokeback Mountain too much! I couldn't have feelings for you! It's not RIGHT, damnit, Kyle! Now get in here so we can discuss this civilly!!" Actually, I've only seen it once. If you're going to have two cowboys, is it too much to ask for them do be good looking? Like Matt Damon and Leo DiCaprio? C'mon, they'd've been PERFECT for that movie!

"Why is it so wrong?" I ask.

"I didn't say it's wrong, I just said it's not RIGHT! Shades of grey, Kyle! There's nothing wrong with you being gay. I don't care about that. But when you're just going to waste your life pining after me ... THAT'S not right. That doesn't do anybody any good, whatsoever. Now let's get you in here!" he says, braving the cold to drag me inside, where he sits me on the couch with a blanket, and goes to fetch hot chocolate.

I just sit quietly, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes again. But I'm not gonna cry. Not in front of him. I won't give him the satisfaction. I'll wait until this is over and he's safely away from me before I break down.

Stan returns, pressing the cup of cocoa into my hands. "C'mon dude. I dunno what made you think I had secret hidden desires for you, but...best if you just get over them and find somebody else. Butters'd probably be happy to have you for a boyfriend, and he'd be better at it than me anyway. All I've ever known is women. Some guys are wired like you, some like me, and some like Kenny. But all I know is, except for Uncle Jimbo, my entire line is straight as an arrow. And I don't think I could love you like that even if I wanted to," he says, taking a sip from his own cup to warm himself up again.

"I don't want anyone else! Why can't you love me? Is it that bad? I don't understand… we know everything about each other, we're always together, you've even ditched your girlfriends sometimes to hang out with me! Doesn't that count for something? I just don't understand why it's such a crime for you to love me. Does it matter if your whole family is straight? Things change eventually. I can't be with anyone else. I tried, and I failed..." I trail off, forced to pause by another sniffle. Goddamnit, no crying, Kyle!! "Why can't you just try?"

"You're my best friend. You're like my brother. You wouldn't make out with Ike, would you? It's JUST like that, only I'm not Canadian. We're not blood brothers, but our relationship is like this," he says, holding two fingers side by side. "It CAN'T go like THIS," he says, crossing them. "You said things would get awkward if we DIDN'T? Think about how awkward things would get if we DID!!"

"But... Things might work..." I plead, with the tears threatening to spill over again. "W-why can't you-" another sniff, to try and prevent the tears, "love me? I love you so much Stan!! I'd do anything for you! But the one thing I can't do is stop loving you. It's a feeling, not a choice."

"I can't, Goddamnit, I just can't! That's not who I am! That's not WHAT I am!! Kyle, don't say this...you're going to make me cry because this is one thing I can't make you feel better about. I can't comfort you about my inability to return your love...which would mean that I fail as a best friend...which means that YOU shouldn't have anything to do with ME." He sounds so sad…and defeated…and panicked…and confused.

I find myself unable any longer to stop the tears pouring. "It hurts so much! I can't make this stop." I'm clutching my chest to illustrate what I'm talking about. "I-i can't do this! I can't stop it!!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!! Please! Kyle, stop it!" He sounds, and looks, like he's on the verge of tears himself. "Stop! I can't have you loving me! I can't! Please!! Stop it, Kyle!!"

I look him straight in the eyes while tears continue to roll from mine down the sides of my face. "I can't!!"

He breaks under my stare, and begins sobbing as well. "You HAVE to!! You'll ruin us!! I'll have to throw you out of the group! You'll have to join the Goths! They'll make you start cutting! Oh, God, you'll die!! WHY, Kyle!?!"

"No matter what, I can't stop loving you!!! That kiss...did you feel anything? Anything at all?"

His response comes a little too quickly for my liking. And he doesn't even look at me when he says it. "No. Not a thing. And you can never make me admit I did!"

I take careful note that he's avoiding my eyes. There's a reason for that. Now, I just need to find out what that reason is. "Really?"

"Really! Nothing!! I swear on my Grandfather's grave!!" he insists, staring at a spot on the floor in between his legs, and quivering.

He doesn't look very convincing. That's for fucking sure. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that..."

He looks up and stares at my eyebrows. I know he's staring at my eyebrows, because I can only see his bottom eyelid. "Nothing at all!!" He sounds panicky this time, like he just wants me to believe him and drop this entire line of questioning.

In response, I grab his chin and make him look me in the eyes. "These are my eyes!! Now tell me!!!" I insist.

His voice is quavering as he denies it again. "N-n-no-o-o-o-th-th-thi-i-i-i-ng-g-g..."

I keep him looking. There's something about my eyes that scares the hell out him. If I want the truth from him, I'm going to have to scare it out of him. This is the best way to get the truth from him. "Did you feel something, Yes or No? Don't look me in the eye and lie." Oh Pleaaaaaaaaase! If there's a God... PLEASE!

He seems to shatter again, all his strength and fortitude crumbling in front of me and the force of my stare. Finally, after a time, he whispers, fearfully "yes."

He DID!! Oh my God…that explains everything. It explains why he was so threatening to me earlier! He was doing everything he could to prevent me from making him question his own sexuality!! I'm speechless, and I can feel the tears again, but this time they're tears of happiness. "Stan…"

"No...not now...aren't you satisfied for one night, Kyle? You took a perfectly nice conversation and turned into something that's going to destroy the both of us..." It seems he's genuinely afraid he may be gay. And what for? What's so bad about it? The clothes are a lot better, for starters…

"'Destroy us?' Don't you see this may save us? Why didn't you-? Why did you keep-? Stan…"

"We CAN'T be, Kyle! We CAN'T do this!! We'll get SLAUGHTERED! Imagine what Fatboy'll say?"

I'm quite unequivocally stunned. "Is that what you're worried about? About what other people think?"

"Well, aren't they all that matters? It's all well and good for us to know each other in private, but in the Court of Public Opinion, we'd get the death penalty!!"

"I don't care about what other people think! All that matters to me is you. If it means we can only be together for a few minutes everyday, so be it. If the public scares you so much, we don't have to do anything outside. There's always after school. But, the fact that we know what's between us is all that matters. Please, Stan..."

"No...can't...Kyle..." I can't believe he's resisting still. He can't live his life for everyone else! He'll never be happy if he does that. Doesn't he want to be happy? Doesn't he want to be with someone that can MAKE him happy? Why should it matter what gender that person is? If he's happy, then that's all that should matter, and fuck the world!!

Maybe I should kiss him again. Should I?

"_He says he felt something, go for it!_" Hmm…when did that voice switch over to my side? Oh well, I'll worry about that later. I lean over and lightly kiss him again. Please work…

He returns it, VERY hesitantly. "Mmmm...oh fuck!"

Oh my GOD!! I can't believe it!! "Don't resist it..." I murmur, continuing to kiss him.

He just lets me ... his mind isn't in control anymore. It's probably swimming, fighting his body for control. "Mmm…no, Kyle, we mustn't!!"

I pull back a little. "We can!" I insist. "There's nothing wrong with this! You feel it, I feel it, we both want it... just don't fight it Stan." I wait for him to make his choice: Kyle and happiness, or Everybody Else and a life of misery.

After a brief period of contemplation, he closes the gap to kiss me gently. "Now will you go to bed?"

"Oh Christ... I'm in Heaven! I don't wanna go to bed! I wanna stay right here like this!" I say, and keep kissing him.

He keeps letting me. "Mmm...c'mon, Kyle, we've got school in the morning!! It's 1 AM! Go to beddddddddddddd!!"

"You break my heart, then mend it, better then new, and you want me to go to bed?" I ask with a sigh.

"We both need sleep...we can make out more tomorrow or something."

"You do like me, right?" I ask. "You're not just trying to make me feel better out of pity, are you?"

"You'd never let me get away with that. You see straight through me. I like ... love ... whatever you wanna call it...you."

I'm speechless again. "Stan... Tell me what I've wanted to hear for … God only knows how long…"

"I love you, Kyle Broflovski..."

I think I could absolutely die of happiness right here, right now.

"Right...to bed with you!" he says after a minute of silent gaping from me.

"You really think I can sleep?"

"You have to. I do, that's for damn sure...but at least you'll have sweet dreams?" he asks with a wink.

"I will. But, it's so lonely up there, since you wanna sleep here on the couch," I complain.

"Not tonight! Not after not even five minutes of being a couple! Can't we just take it slow?"

"I'll never rush you. We can go as slow as you want!" I tell him. "I wasn't thinking of 'that' anyway..."

"Your parents would see, anyway...back up to your room, then...but I'll be a lot closer to your bed than normal, Ky..."

"Fine with me! Could I uh..."

"What?"

"Maybe ... have another kiss?"

"Anything. Anything that'll get us asleep," he says, kissing me.

I melt into his arms, allowing him to pick me up in his strong arms and carry me towards the stairs.

"C'mon...bedtime!!" I curl up into his chest as he ascends the stairs, thinking over the events of this night. It won't be easy. Even though I've gotten him to admit to ME that he loves me, I still think he's a little worried about the perceptions of others. I'll have to work with him to get him to tell anyone else that he loves me. To acknowledge our new relationship to the rest of the world. It will take a while, but he loves me and I love him…and I'm content with that, for now.

He lays me in my bed and moves his kit over to lie next to me. I hang my arm over the side, and his hand reaches up to give mine a gentle squeeze. Smiling, I nustle into my pillow and allow sleep to reclaim me, dreaming this time of the time soon to come when Stan will be my pillow.

-.-

Author's Notes: Just to let you all know, there has been a discussion regarding this relationship…and there is material for a second part to this oneshot, if enough of you want.

Let me know!

Phoenix II


	2. Chapter 2

Revelations – Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Summary: Kyle has Stan. But what will Stan's friends think?

Notes: Well, this is officially a small story. I figure five or six parts. The reason detracts from the actual story, so I'm not gonna tell you XD. Figure it out LOL.

-.-

I'm starting to worry about when Stan will ever be comfortable with me. It's been six months since "That Night," as we've taken to referring to it in private. All we've done since then is kiss. And always just in the privacy of our bedrooms. He will NOT risk being seen, and nothing I can do can convince him otherwise. I know I've got to do something to light a fire under him to come clean to the rest of the world.

These past few months have been absolute torture on me. Stan absolutely forbade me from doing ANYTHING that he thought would tip anyone off. No kissing him, no happy waving, no grabbing onto him, no hanging onto him, no hugging him, NOTHING.

He won't even kiss me in the bathroom. Or behind the bleachers. Or in his car. Nowhere where he can be seen. Because the star quarterback of South Park High CAN'T be gay in public. He says that every time I bring it up, like it would be a fucking crime to be seen with me in public. He has a reputation to protect, and I think he still harbors a bit of resentment towards me for showing him that he loves me, because now he has to lie to both himself and everyone else every day, and hurts him.

I think I understand his fears though. He DOES have too much at stake to come out in South Park, really. I love the boy to death, but his reputation shouldn't matter when it comes to who he loves. I want him to come to his senses and realize this, but I won't force him to. I can wait for him. I don't like being second-best, but it's STAN. He's the one I want to be with forever. I'll do anything for him, and if that includes waiting an indefinite amount of time for him to admit his feelings outside of our bedrooms, so be it.

The door to the locker room opening distracts me from my thoughts. I've been waiting for him to come out of football practice for a while. Just leaning up against a row of lockers and thinking, dreaming about Stan, the usual, really.

My heart dances when he strides out of the locker room, his still-wet hair shining and hanging down over his eyes. I smile when he notices me.

"Hey dude," he says, coming over to where I'm leaning. "Sorry to keep you waiting…Coach wanted to work on a few new plays for the Conifer game on Friday."

"It's no biggie," I say, shrugging it off. "Do you wanna head home?" As I ask this, I get behind him and rest my chin on his shoulder, my arms encircling his waist, teasing.

He freezes, and I feel his light-hearted mood evaporate beneath my touch. "Dude!" he hisses. "The others are still in there, they –" He's interrupted by the locker room door opening again, and a large group of boys emerging to see my arms around Stan.

"OH – MAH – GAWD!" comes the astonished shout of Eric Cartman. Oh no…not Cartman! Why him?

"Quick, guys! Get the faggeh Jew before he corrupts Stan!" he shouts, and suddenly I'm ripped away from Stan and borne away by at least five other football players. There's Cartman in front, Craig and Clyde on my arms, and Token and Kevin on my legs. They're taking me somewhere…I can't see Stan anywhere.

The next thing I know, I'm being slammed up against the cafeteria wall.

"So, Jewfag, corrupt OUR quarterback, will you!?!" Cartman shouts, punching me in the stomach. Unfortunately, because Craig and Clyde are still holding me up against the wall, I can't even double over.

"I wasn't trying to corrupt him!" I respond. "I mean, sure, I love him, but I was just goofing around!" That just gets me another punch, this time to the balls. Son of a bitch that hurts!

"You know what happens to fags in this school, right, Kahl?" Cartman asks, punching me in the face. There's a crack as my nose breaks, and I start tasting blood in my mouth from a busted lip.

"WHAT fags? There's only me!" I say. I've never known of any other gay people in our school…

"Kenneh! We _killed_ him." Oh, God…are they gonna kill me? Please…no…I don't wanna die a virgin! And I don't wanna die when my life will have no meaning…Stan'll just go back to girls quicker than Cartman goes from the main course to dessert!

Putting on a sense of bravado, I choke out a reply. "So what? People kill Kenny all the time!"

"I know that, fag!" Cartman shouts, punching me again. "That's not the point! The point is, we hurt him! And that's what we do! We'll break every bone in your body if you don't shut the fuck up!"

As he says this, I catch a glimpse of black hair in the cafeteria door window. It's Stan…his head slowly pops up so that he's looking in. Closing my mouth, I allow Cartman, Token, and Kevin to pummel me while I stare into his eyes. He winces every time I do. Only it's worse for him. If he wanted, he could come in and beat the crap out of all of these assholes. But doing that would make them think he's faggy too, and that's something he can't have.

Finally, they either tire or get bored of beating me, and allow me to slide to the floor as they leave out the other door. I wait for their loud footsteps and bragging voices to die down before I turn my aching head to the door Stan's still staring at.

"You can come out of hiding now, Stan," I say, and he cautiously opens the door and slides in, running over to me.

"I did it for you, you know," I say, as he runs over to me, running his fingers through my hair and pulling me close to comfort me.

"What?" he asks.

"I know how much your reputation means to you, so I'll take that so you can keep that reputation," I say. His eyes are blurry with guilty tears. He knows he's betrayed me. He knows he doesn't deserve a person as selfless as I am. Someone who'll allow people to beat them up just to protect the _REPUTATION_ of the person they love.

"Look what I've done to you! This was a mistake!" he says.

"No it's not! I did it for you! So you can keep the thing that's most precious to you!! See, I'll do and take ANYTHING for you, because I love you."

He begins crying now. It seems that every time I tell him that, he begins crying, because he doesn't deserve it. Every time I tell him that, he does something he tells me later that he REALLY didn't want to do. That's how I got him, telling him I love him and making him question his sexuality. The only way I got him to take a little risk when kissing me, by leaving the door unlocked, was by telling him I love him.

I have to readjust us, causing a sharp pain to shoot through my upper body, to allow Stan to sob into my shoulder. How ironic is this? The bruised and bloodied-up boy is comforting the boy who allowed this to happen to him.

"Kyle…I'll beat them up for doing this to you!" he promises me in between sobs. "I'll get back at them."

"Will you tell them why?"

"Why would I have to? You're my best friend, they wouldn't question me why!"

"But that's the thing! I'm more than your best friend! I'm your boyfriend! Why can't your precious football team know about this? What's so bad about having a boyfriend? Why don't you want me? I love you with all my heart, and with everything that I am, but you HAVE to make a choice here! Am I more important to you than your reputation? Or do appearances come first for you?"

His sobs double in intensity. He's done as much as he can to avoid this confrontation. He loves the status quo. But the status quo just isn't an option anymore! It's either he's an incredibly self-centered, Stan-conscious bastard, or he proves that he loves me.

The way he's avoided this for so long is just pathetic. If I could have loved any other boy, and if he loved me too, we wouldn't have waited SIX FUCKING MONTHS to acknowledge this fact! So either he doesn't really love me, or he's a fucking pussy! And I don't want to be in a loveless relationship, or in a relationship with a pussy! If I wanted a girl, I'd fucking get into a relationship with a girl! I want a guy! I want Stan! But if he doesn't want me … it's not like there aren't other guys out there. There are. Stan's not the best looking guy out there, he makes TONS of mistakes, he's not rich … why am I so hung up on STAN MARSH, of all people? I could do better. I know I could. Why love Stan so much?

As I contemplate how I got into this mess, into this relationship with someone who won't acknowledge our relationship, the subject of my musings just…stops. He stops crying, he stops shaking, and he stands up. My gaze follows his rise, and his face is scarily blank. His jaw is set, and there's a determination in his eyes. Without a word, he turns away from me and heads for the same door Cartman and his little gang left through. He clenches his hands into fists as he leaves, leaving me alone on the cold tile floor of the cafeteria.

My heart sinks. He chose his reputation. A relationship with someone he loves and who loves him is less important than being whatever society tells him to be. I can't really say that I'm too surprised that he chose the way he did. He's never really been too secure about being in a relationship with another boy. But…to just leave me, beaten and bruised on the cafeteria floor, without saying a word? It's terrible, absolutely terrible. Why would he do something like that? Does he hate me, for putting him in such a position?

He must, I mean…we've been friends for more than ten years! Doesn't that warrant an "I'm sorry, dude, but I can't do this?" Not even an "I'm sorry." An "It's not you, it's me." Anything! Any apology! Any excuse! I'd take it! Anything would be better than a silent departure, leaving me like this…

Leaving me unable to walk, bruises all over my chest and stomach, a broken nose and a busted lip. I wait until I can comfortably breathe again before I try to pull myself up, using a cafeteria table for support until I reach the door, and stagger down the hallway, supporting myself with lockers, walls, and doors, until I reach the door for the courtyard, that leads to the main sidewalk, which leads to home.

I push open the door and begin to slowly walk down the sidewalk. There's signs of a scuffle over by the fountain. Two unconscious bodies…they look like Craig…yes, there's the hat … and Clyde! And there…propped up against the fountain…

It's Stan! He looks…horrible! He's got bloody wounds all over his head, and his clothes are torn. I can see bruises starting to form on his chest. It takes me forever to register that the boy I love is gravely injured, far worse than me, and maybe even near death, and that I'm just standing here staring. When the shock of this realization passes, I run as best as I can to his side, dropping into a crouch next to him.

Hearing my approach, he turns his head to face me as I drop next to him. With a dazed smile on his face, he tells me that "I did it for you." That it was all for me. That everything is for me.

I'm still stunned. I must be dreaming. I passed out, or was knocked out, back in the cafeteria…this can't be real.

"Do you understand my choice?" he asks, weakly. "Do you understand why I couldn't tell you, Kyle? Do you believe…actions speak louder than words?"

The way he says it, so softly, so gently, because that's the only way he can speak…it moves me to tears. I want to cry. I want to let it all out. I want to hug him so much, but I can't because it might hurt him, with all his cuts and bruises. But more than any of that, I want to kiss him. It would be our first kiss outside of each others homes, I can't think of any place more special, or any more special of a reason, to do it than here, just like this. He's in no position to be resisting such a kiss…hell, it would even answer his question.

Hesitantly, I lean over to kiss him, still a little scared that he may pull back and avoid my lips. To my shock, he actually leans up to meet me midway. It feels so good, despite both of our injuries making our lips sensitive to pressure. I can't resist. I throw myself on him and kiss him passionately. He winces a little at first, but allows himself to kiss and be kissed with as much passion as we've ever mustered at home.

I want to kiss him forever, but we need to get cleaned up and bandaged. Stan seems to read my mind, and asks me to get us home. He says he's tired, and in pain.

"I can't walk…everything hurts," he says. "You'll have to drive." He slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys. I'm not in the best of shape either, but I guess I can drive. Helping him up, I allow him to rest against me. He relaxes into my embrace as I guide us to the parking lot and his car, where he takes up residence across his entire back seat and I slowly side into his car and start it up, slowly putting it into gear and pulling out of the lot.

"Whose…house?" Stan asks.

"Mine," I say. "No one's home, and it's closer," continuing my short drive home.

"Do you…have enough Band-Aids? And how're we getting upstairs?" he asks, panting just to ask.

"Overprotective mum, remember?" I ask, putting the car in park, shutting it off, and helping him out of the back seat. "Of course there're enough Band-Aids." I hope we can get upstairs. The LAST thing I want is Mom coming home and seeing us like this. I open the door with Stan still supporting himself on my arms, and we begin making our way up the stairs.

"You know … we'll have to be … naked, right?" he asks, and I blush. "So … we can be sure … nothing's wrong?"

"Well, of course…" I say. "But … I've never … y'know, BEEN naked with you," my blush deepening by the second.

"I understand … dude," he says. "But … c'mon … what can we possibly do?"

If anything my blush deepens. Running through my head are the various scenarios that run through my head of all the things we COULD do in a situation like that. All the things that I'd even LIKE to do in a situation like that. But we CAN'T, because Cartman has to be a bigoted lardass. And drag Craig, Clyde, Token, and Kevin along for the thrills. I hope he gave them all a good shot.

"Dude?" he asks. "The stairs?"

"Right," I say, shaking my head to clear it of all the thoughts I had of him and me, naked and doing things. As I do, I realize – we're barely half-way, and I don't … I don't think I can go any farther.

"Dude? You … all right?"

"No," I say. "I'm not … can you maybe help?"

"I'll … try …" he says, placing one of his arms around my back and under my right arm, and the other on the banister, pushing himself up and pulling me along. To help, I place MY right arm on the little railing along the wall, and my LEFT arm around HIS back and under HIS left arm, and together we push ourselves upstairs, and into my room, where we strip naked and I get him in my bed, before going to bandage him up. Somehow I avoided any really bad cuts, but Stan … Stan requires quite a few bandages.

Once I finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds, I grab a chair and sit by him, stroking his hair, him under the covers, and me back in my pants, having guaranteed that nothing was damaged in the attack.

… Which is how Mom finds us, an hour later.

-.-

END PART TWO

-.-

Notes: I like this one. Should be noted that THIS part was almost all my effort, dialogue wise and such. All Karen did was help me out with the plot. I hope it was an enjoyable surprise!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Revelations – Chapter Three**

**Disclaimer: Not Mine!**

**Summary: Kyle's Mum has discovered them in Kyle's room all bruised and stuff. What's she gonna do?**

**-.-**

"WHAT HAPPENED?!?" Mom screams at me from the doorway, hurrying over to where I'm sitting with Stan.

We look at each other cautiously before I venture "Football practice?"

"KYLE, YOU DON'T PLAY FOOTBALL!!" she reminds me hysterically. Sometimes I wish she wasn't so overprotective, but I know it's all for my own good.

"Well, I was off to the side studying," I lie, "and I was so into it I didn't notice the ball flying at me, and uh... Well you know, you can guess the rest."

"But then how did Stan get so hurt?" she asks. At least she's buying that it was football related, maybe…

"Oh uh... he was off at the time and he caught the ball before it hit me, and everyone tackled him instead and I only got a lil hurt, Stan took the worst of it." That's kinda true in a way. He DID get worse than I did.

"But weren't you out of bounds? Why would they tackle Stanley if he was out of bounds and not even playing!?!" Since when did you know anything or give a damn about football? I'm barely able to restrain myself from yelling that out at her, biting my tongue and trying to come up with something else.

"Uh..." I stammer, "Well... You know what those brainless jocks are like mum. They see the ball, they go for it."

"But their star player? And you still haven't said what you were doing at the football field in the first place, young man! Does this have something to do with all those romantic comedies in your room!?!" Uh oh. She's not buying it! Oh, this is worse than that night!!

"Well, I was going to meet Stan, but practice was going a little over time, so I sat on the side and was studying until he was ready... and well, you know the rest."

"What was so important that you couldn't wait until he got out of the locker room?"

"Well it's not like it was my fault! I mean those guys were the ones at fault! Being the brainless oafs they are!" It's still a little true, but I'm REALLY skating on thin ice here…

"But why were you THERE? Why couldn't you wait in the Commons for Stanley?"

"Well he was late, and I went to see where he was, that's all."

"And you couldn't have just looked out a window?"

"Well I wasn't in the rooms near the field!!" Oh God, Mom, DROP IT!!

"And you couldn't get to one? You had to go get yourself nearly killed?"

"It's not like it happened on purpose!"

"Kyle, you should know better!! For God's sake, you nearly got yourself AND Stanley killed!"

"IT WASN'T MY DAMN FAULT! I WAS OFF TO THE SIDE, WHERE I SHOULD'VE BEEN! IT'S THEIR FAULT!" I shout, trying to defend this hopeless position. Maybe if I yell, she'll be convinced and leave us alone.

"You should've been in the stands if you had to be anywhere at all!"

"GOD DAMN IT DROP IT, THIS ISN'T WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW!! IT'S NOT MY FAULT THE JOCKS AROUND HERE ARE FUCKING BRAINLESS OAFS WHO CANT ACCEPT SOMEONE BEING DIFFERENT AND THEN FUCKING BEAT THE CRAP OUTA THEM WHE-...Oh shit." Me and my big goddamn mouth! I just CAN'T shut up when I need to!!

"Oh, Kyle, you've never been good at keeping secrets! So, why DO you have so many romantic comedies in your room?"

"I uh…" Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

Stan weakly pipes up from the bed. "We're gay with each other, Mrs. B..."

"Oh, bubby, you and Stanley got beaten up because you're gay? Who was it?"

Stan answers, his voice still weak. "No, Kyle got beaten up for being gay... I handled it. I beat them up...and got a little worse than what I gave..."

"Oh, Kyle...you should be proud of Stanley! No need to lie about something as gallant and brave as that!!" Mom exclaims, practically clapping her hands together. Why do I live in a goddamn soap opera? And who the fuck uses words like gallant anymore?

I'm speechless, floundering for words. I mean…that's a pretty tough question she stuck me with. I don't want to sound ungrateful to Stan, but I don't want to admit being a liar to Mom either… "I am mum, I am proud of him, I was just scared to tell you about us. You may not accept, and that would be the last thing we need right now."

She hugs me. "Oh bubby, I would never challenge you on something like that! You know yourself better than I do...and I won't say I'm entirely surprised. No straight boy on this earth has 160 romantic comedies on DVD in five different languages..."

I blush. Did she HAVE to say that in front of Stan? That I'm THAT big of a fucking girl? One or two wouldn't be bad, but…maybe 160 IS a bit excessive. A lot of them aren't even that funny. Instead, I hug her back. "Thanks mum."

"Do you two need anything? Moses, Stanley, you're looking quite the worse for wear...should I call your parents and tell them you won't be home tonight?"

"Yeah...might be...a good idea..." Stan says.

"And have you two had anything to eat?"

"Uh, we haven't actually. You hungry Stan?" I ask my poor bruised boyfriend.

"Fuck...yes..."

"Language, Stanley!" Mom admonishes. "How much blood do you think he's lost, Kyle?"

"Well, he was rather bloody when I cleaned him up earlier, but he has stopped bleeding. I don't think he lost too much."

"Oy...well then, it's stew night...need to give an easy-to-eat meal with a lot of nutrients...and I'll have Ike bring up some Gatorade to work on your electrolyte balances!"

"Uh... Do you need any help?" I don't wanna help, but making the offer's the right thing to do with her being so helpful and accepting and all…

"Tch, I've still got Gerald and Ike to run about my kitchen, that's plenty interruptions enough! You just stay here with Stanley. Now...I need to call his parents, cube the potatoes, brown the meat, dig out the crock pot, slice the carrots, dice the onions, oy!" she says, throwing her arms up in theatrical frustration.

"Hehe, OK then mum. Thanks."

"No problem, Kyle. You boys behave yourselves, hear? I don't want you traumatizing poor Ike!"

Stan chuckles, and I feel like joining him. We couldn't traumatize Ikey if we wanted to.

I go over to Stan. "Not with him like this..." I tell Mom.

"I know, I just had to say it is all...now where is that little rascal?" She asks, rhetorically, wandering out of the room to look for my adopted little brother.

I go and close the door before returning to sit by the bed with Stan. "You did it again for me."

"What, held off your mum? I didn't do anything, love...that was all her."

"True... But you still stood up for me."

"Well that line of questioning was going nowhere fast, was it?"

"I guess so, I was just worried she wouldn't accept, I mean... She's scary sometimes. Really scary," I say, shuddering, remembering her screaming about some injustice or the other.

"Aw, don't be worried love! It's MY parents we've gotta worry about! You know how worked up Dad gets about the littlest things!"

"That's where the trusty alcohol comes into it! But we got my mum on our side, and your mum will be fine with it, he'll be out numbered."

"But what about Shelley?" His sister? What's he worried about her for? "What if she wants to break another piano over my head!?! I can't have another piano being broken over my head when I'm like this!!" If he wasn't completely serious, I'd start laughing.

"Do you really think she'll care? She doesn't even know we still exist, I can't remember the last time she talked to me! And hey, that was because we weren't listening to her! Hehe, you looked so cute with your hat like that."

"If she finds out I'm an assrammer she'll make certain to break one over my head!"

"What makes you think she'll even care? Besides, who cares what others think, right?"

"But...it threatens additional bodily harm in the form of Pianos being Broken Over My Head!! You can't help but worry about that!"

"But she won't care love," I say, hugging him as much as I can without hurting him.

"Ohh, you'd better be right! That hurts!!" he says, and I immediately pull back and away from him, breaking my hug.

"Oh shit sorry, are you OK? I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, not that...that feels good. Pianos hurt!"

"Oh! Hehe they do... My head was sore for ages."

"I think I STILL have a couple splinters in my hair all these years later..."

"Hehe," I chuckle, looking at how bruised he is. "Stan, I'm sorry all this happened..."

"No! Don't be! If you hadn't just blurted it out, I'd still be dithering on in my life! I'd have all those obligations weighing me down! But these past few months with you...it's been enlivening. Something to look forward to at the end of the day, instead of the boring routine of practice, go home, shower, have dinner, do homework, shower again, go to bed! And now that all this has happened...I'm FREE!!!"

"Really? But... Look at you! What if this happens again? Somehow I don't think they'll just let it go at this. What if they hurt you again? What if they...I dunno, get you in the middle of the night? And it's my fault 'cause I had to be to 'friendly' in the halls..."

"It won't! They know I can beat the crap out of any of them! It took eight of them ten minutes just to do this! And even then I took down two of them! Don't worry about it, Ky...I can protect the both of us."

"But they know you're hurt now! What if they get you while you're down?"

"I just won't go for a few days. Your mom can get Dr. Doctor to come by and sign a note."

"If you think so. Oh Stan, I just hate seeing you like this. My perfect Stan all bloody and bruised, and it's my fault."

"No its not...I made the choice. I could have just thrown you away and renounced you. But I didn't. I knew that this was the LEAST that would happen. They could've killed me. I chose this. For you, my Kyle..."

"Stan, you're so amazing! I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you... I love you so much, so damn much Stan!"

"And I love you too!!" he says, leaning up for a kiss, which I'd happily provide, if it weren't for the voice that suddenly comes from my door.

"Ahem...Mum sends up Gatorade, and reminds you to not make out in front of me. But you don't have to pay attention to that second bit if you don't want to..." Ike says. Now, before you wonder why my little brother wants to watch me and Stan make out…he's not wearing his onesie anymore. He's grown to wearing tight emo-pants and a skin-tight tee. He's sexually ambivalent at best. So…there ya go.

"I'm not putting on a show for my little brother, but we'll take the Gatorade!"

"Fine, hold out on me...Jesus, is it too much to ask for some live sexy action around here?" he snarks, tossing me the bottles of Gatorade. Orange and Lemon-Lime. Meh…I'll take the Orange.

"Well, Stan's not well enough.''

"So maybe later?" he says, with a HUUUUUUUUUUGE wink.

"We'll see, now get out."

"Yes SIR!" he says, snapping a smart-ass salute and walking back downstairs.

"Now, where were we?" Stan asks.

"Little bugger…" I say, gently kissing Stan. I'm still worried I'll hurt him.

"Well, c'mon, Kyle...do you REALLY want dear Ikey to learn about the good stuff from such a disreputable place as the Internet?"

"I supppppppose so, but I don't wanna put on a show for him. He can see one kiss, that's it!"

"Hmmm...MAYBE that'll stop him from wiring your room..."

"Pesky little perv he's become, he's too smart not to know about the 'Internet' anyways.''

"But all that stuff is so...fake...and quick...not to mention expensive! Whereas we're quite real, drawn-out, and FREE!!"

"Well, some aren't too bad..."

"The hi-def stuff shows off all the flaws, and the lo-res stuff is too dark and garish...you can't win."

"Meh, it did the trick before that night. I had to get you off my mind somehow," I say, blushing.

"MF, FF, MFM, MM, MMF, or Cartman's mum?" he asks. He doesn't care that I've been watching porn, the ass just wants to know what!!

"Errrrrrr…" I say with a blush, quickly mumbling "MM."

"Oooh!! Alright...yeah, they seem to put in the extra effort most of the time...must be something with the fastidiousness..."

"Hehe... never worked though."

"Kept seeing me instead of the hotties, eh?"

''Yeah, I found your picture worked better then any site I found."

"That's...kinda disturbing. But in a good way. Makes me glad I sprung for the glossy prints..."

"What's disturbing about it? You should take it as a compliment! You're hotter then any porno out there!"

"Still...you're fapping away to my pic!!"

"Well, as long as we're talking about how disturbing I am, it wasn't just your picture that worked." I think my blush is going to become permanent. "Thinking of you did it too."

"Me just doing normal stuff, or me tied down to this bed and moaning your name?" When did he get so goddamn nosy? And kinky, for that matter…seriously! Him tied to my bed? Interesting and hot thought, but…KINKY!!

"Mainly number two. Number one isn't without its charms though."

"You mean me just walking down the hall at school and smiling at you could give you an orgasm?"

"Well, not an orgasm, but it had its effects on me. I learned to cover it up though."

"Dude, you've got it BAD for me!! So...that little flush when I looked at you in the stands at football games wasn't from the cold? You just can't resist a Stan in uniform?"

"Lucky it was cold, took my mind off other things. Of course I've got it bad for you! I mean, I really love you Stan. Really-really."

"Kyle..." he says, turning my head towards him. "I really-really love you too," he says, before he leans up and kisses me.

Of course I kiss back. "Hey. I'm sure I know the answer, but … did you ever think about me at all?"

"Once or twice like THAT, but ... usually it was just us doing normal stuff we do. Like...fighting robotic dinosaurs, hoboes, Cartman, the usual same old same old."

"Really? Just twice, huh? Would you humor me and tell me?"

"Well...OK... It was maybe a month or so before that night, and we'd just gotten back from the new health club. You remember, the one with the sauna that killed Kenny? Well, anyway...I was asleep that night, and I went back there in my dreams...and you were doing a bit more steaming naked, and I just hid in the steam for awhile admiring you before making my move. So, I carefully moved in...and kissed you, and you didn't mind, so I dropped my towel too, and let you lie back on it, so you wouldn't get a splinter while I ravished you. And I kissed my way down your body, and sucked you off for a while...and then you made me enter you, so I did, and it was good...and then shot off, and you just kept breathing until you calmed down, then we just left. And then I woke up. MESSY!!!"

"Wow! See your brain was telling you we're right! That sounds like a fun dream! What I'd give to make it reality…"

"But where are we gonna go for a sauna now that we blew the health club up destroying the immortal soul of that old gold miner?"

"Well, there's other places besides saunas! Always your hot tub."

He pouts. "Wouldn't be the same...needs to be a sauna, or else it wouldn't be right..."

"But then again, there's always the fact that we haven't gone that far yet. Not past a make out, actually."

"Well, that's my fault...but now that I don't really have to worry about being caught with you, we can do whatever we want, wherever we want, and whenever we want!"

"Really? I mean, uh…only if you want to. I don't want to rush you if you're not ready. We can wait as long as you like."

"No! Fuck waiting! We've waited more than half a year! All because of me! I have so much to make up to you...I need to take you to dinner! I need to take you dancing! We need to sit in the back row at the movies and make out and giggle with each other! And, we need to make love!"

"Ohh, Stan! Really? You really want to start doing those things?

"Yes, goddamnit! I'm gay! There, I said it. Now that that's out of the way, I can start doing GAY things with my BOYfriend, who is also gay! Which, strangely enough, are the same damn things straight people do, except they're with my BOYfriend. The FIRST Saturday I feel better, we're going to dinner, a movie, a dance club, and back to your place."

He makes me speechless. I feel tears coming on. "You have no idea just how happy you've made me! I mean, I've always been happy with you. When we got together, that feeling was indescribable! But this... I just don't know what this is..."

"Me owning up to myself and making myself deserving of the love and care and patience you've sunk into me these past six months is what this is. I PROMISE, Kyle. I'm gonna take you out on the town."

"Oh Stan! I really can't think of anything to say! I just can't imagine being any happier then this!"

"Don't talk then...just kiss me."

I'm almost crying. "Of course!" I say, kissing him lovingly.

"Ohh...Kyle..." he moans, reaching a hand up to tangle in my hair.

I move in closer to him. "Stan! Oh God I love you! So So SO much! Love love love You!"

"I'll deserve it one day! I don't now, not that much, but I will earn your love eventually!"

"Are you kidding? You almost got yourself killed today! You deserve it more then ever!"

"But that was because I had to! Trust me...it's nothing to love me for. Not nearly as much as what I'm planning for you even now..."

"You almost got killed for me, that's worth my love with out a doubt! What are you planning my love?"

"Oh, you'll see! And hear, and taste, and feel..."

"I can't wait!" I kiss him again. "I'm so lucky to have you!"

"I'm lucky to have someone who thinks that...someone who actually cares, and isn't just using me for eye candy!!"

"I love YOU! For you, not what you are!" I insist, with another kiss. "But you're incredibly hot too, of course, no doubt about that!"

"Well, of course. It's just a side effect of me being...me," he says with a cheeky grin.

From the doorway, Mom holds a portable food tray and announces "Stew's ready. Kyle, you want to come take these?"

"Cheeky bugger! OK, mom!" I say, moving over to get the food. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, bubby. Remember to drink that Gatorade, both of you!" she says, flouncing off again.

"What kind did she send up for me?" Stan asks.

"Mmmmmm her beef stew, it's delicious."

"YOU'RE delicious."

"Food first, you need your energy."

"Yes, mum..."

"You'll want your energy for dessert."

"Yes, Kyle!!" he says, beginning to eat, somewhat hurriedly.

"Seems you have enough now!!"

"I want dessert!"

"Gee, give me a minute, I'm still eating!"

"Slowpoke," he says with a fake pout. Hehe…I don't particularly know what dessert's gonna BE. I don't want to have SEX yet…maybe we'll cuddle. Yeah…cuddling sounds good.

Stan's going to take me on a date!!! An actual, honest-to-God DATE!! Oh…I'm in heaven!!

**-.-**

**Author's Notes: Sounds all well and good, doesn't it? Very nice? Sorry…NOT gonna happen XDDD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Revelations – Chapter Four**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Summary: The date. Will the warm fuzzies stay around or run for the hills?**

**-.-**

I'm wringing my hands while I'm waiting for the doorbell to ring. It's been three weeks since the fight, and Stan has been a little more … promiscuous in our activities as a couple. Last week, his first day back, he'd dragged me into the first-floor boys bathroom before first period in front of everybody for a kissing session that resulted in both of us being tardy to English and looking quite flustered.

I'm waiting for the doorbell to ring, because the doorbell ringing means Stan's arrived to pick me up for our first real date as a couple. He says he's prepared it all, made reservations and arrangements so that we'll be sure to enjoy it. That I'LL be sure to enjoy it. I kept in mind the last thing he promised me then – that we would be making love tonight – when I was picking out my outfit for the evening. It's August, so I don't need a sweater, or a full suit, which he wouldn't like anyway…and I don't want to be wearing TOO much, because that would probably frustrate him in the bedroom, so I settled on a short-sleeved white button down and khaki pants. No tie. My hair is just brushed, hanging in curls around my forehead. Everything on MY end is perfect…but I'm still nervous as hell while I wait for my boyfriend.

Finally (_FINALLY!_) the familiar tone of the doorbell sounds through the house, even though it's only been a few minutes. I resist the urge to leap up and run for the door, even though I'm only on the couch, and manage to stand up and carefully walk to the door. I open it to find an equally nervous Stan standing in front of me, dressed almost identically, with his jet black hair lightly gelled and slicked back with a nervous grin on his face, and holding a bouquet of roses.

"Erm…hi…these are for you," he says, a nervousness obvious in his voice. "I didn't know…if I should or not, so I decided it'd better be safe than sorry, and … uh … you're not allergic to them, are you?" He's just SO GODDAMN ADORABLE when he doesn't know what the hell he's doing…

Reaching out, I take them and return his smile. "Of course not. C'mon in, I need to find a place to put these…" He nervously chuckles and has a seat on the couch while I find a vase to put them in. I fill it with water, and trim the stems, and arrange them.

"Sorry, I could only afford seven," he says sheepishly. Yes…there they are, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, but even a mere seven roses from the boy I love are worth more to me than seven dozen from anyone else.

"It's OK," I tell him. "We're only teenagers, I won't demand full dozens until we're out of college." I add the last part with a smirk. He chuckles.

"I'm gonna go put these in my room quick, I'll be right back," I say, headed for the stairs. He just nods his assent as I scale the stairs, placing them in front of the mirror above my dresser before hurrying back downstairs.

"Shall we go?" I ask, holding my arm out.

"Yes, let's," he says, leading me out to his Dad's car.

"Where're we going?" I ask as he starts it up and puts it in gear. "Benningtons?"

"Full," he says with regret.

"Whistlin' Willie's?"

"Three birthday parties. Full."

"Shakey's?"

"Karaoke Night. Hell no."

"Where then?"

He sounds really apprehensive about telling me. "…Raisins," he says with no small degree of shame.

"The titty bar?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"They DO wear some clothes!" he says defensively. "But they're the only semi-decent eatery left in town. Besides, I like the chicken wings."

"Oh. Well…I do too," I reply with a sheepish grin. "But what are you going to do when they start hitting on us?"

"I figure laying a big one on you in front of the lot of them ought to keep the bimbos off us."

"You'd do that?"

"Haven't we gone over this? I'm gay for you, you're gay for me, and we're gay together. I'll do anything for you."

"I love you," I tell him earnestly. He's made SUCH progress over the past few weeks, it's AMAZING.

"Plus, it'll let them know you're taken, in addition to being gay," he smiles. "Don't want any skanky girls hitting on my boyfriend, do we?"

"No, we don't!" I say, intentionally failing to repress a shudder. God, getting hit on by Raisins girls…bleh. NOT interested. Not in the slightest. Got my Stan, and he's hotter than the entire waiting staff at Raisins.

When we arrive, we walk in and are promptly escorted to a prominent table by a pair of waitresses whose breasts are even MORE prominent than the table.

"Soooooo, boys," the one whose nametag identifies her as Aston M. says, "What'll it be?"

"Two orders of chicken wings and two sodas," Stan replies. I don't object, because everybody who's anybody only comes to Raisins for the chicken wings and soda.

"You sure that's all?" Peugeot says, lazily tracing the vein that runs up my arm. "We can get you ANYTHING, you know."

"Yeah, we've heard," Stan says coldly. "Chicken wings, soda, and hands off my boyfriend."

"Your BOYfriend!?!" pretty much the entire waitressing staff squeals, no matter where they were located in the establishment. "You've totally gotta kiss! Kiss each other please, please, please!?!"

"Yeah, that's it, faggots, kiss in public!!" comes a snide voice from across the restaurant. It's Tweek. TWEEK, of all people.

"What the fuck's it to you, Tweek?" Stan shouts.

"GAH! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Craig made me! God this is WAY TOO MUCH PRESSURE!!" the twitchy blonde shrieks, ducking back into his booth and the offender in question stands up.

"Craig, you asshole!" I say. "Isn't beating the crap out of me and then getting your ass handed to you by Stan once enough for you?"

"I could've EASILY taken Stan myself!" the hotheaded Tourette's-afflicted boy says. "That fatass left me vulnerable!"

"It was eight on one in your favor, moron!" Stan shoots back. "Why do you have a problem with me and Kyle?"

"Cuz you're fags, of course!" he scoffs. "What, you need something better?"

"If it's not too much goddamn trouble!" I exclaim. "If you're going to be a fucking bigot, at least have a good reason!"

"Cartman says the fags have to be persecuted because 'Faggotrah is a sin-uh against God-uh.' Fags are Satanists," he sneers. The worst part is, he has the Cartman-in-evangelical-preacher-mode voice down pat.

"We are not!" Stan protests, standing up himself, and I notice people clearing out a space. Obviously they think a fight is forthcoming. "I'm just as much of a Catholic as I was before Kyle and I became boyfriends!"

"Are not!" Craig says.

"Are so!" Stan says.

"Are NOT, fag!"

"Are fucking so you goddamn buttlicker!"

He flips Stan off. "You're the buttlicker, queermo!"

"I AM NOT!!" Stan says. "We haven't even done it yet!!"

"So? You can still be a buttlicker if you're a virgin!"

"I'm not a virgin!" he says. "But I'm not a buttlicker either!"

"Fucking fag," Craig says, grabbing Tweek and his cup of what is likely fifteen different blends of coffee. "C'mon, Tweek, let's get out of here before their fagginess gets into your coffee and makes you want to suck my dick."

"GAH!" Tweek screams, allowing himself to be manhandled by Craig out the door. One of the waitresses approaches us.

"Erm…boys? Do you still want those chicken wings?"

"Yes, please…Sorry about that," I say, reaching across the table and putting a hand on Stan's shoulder, getting him to sit back down. "Don't let him get to you, Stan. He's not worth it. You got him once…if he has any sense, he'll avoid pissing you off again," I tell him gently, offering him one of the baskets of chicken wings.

"Yeah, you're probably right, Kyle," he says, tearing into the chicken wing viciously. "I just don't get it. Why the hell are people so unaccepting of the kind of relationship we have? What's so goddamn wrong about it? We're all the children of God, if there are homosexuals, which we can say for certain there ARE, He still made them, they're still His children, and He still loves us. Doesn't he? Or are we just practical jokes to give Satan something to play with?"

Oh God.

**-.-**

This bitching continues through the rest of dinner, the drive to the dance hall, the dancing part of the date, the drive to the movie theater, and throughout the movie. I don't understand why the hell he's being so insecure about this all of a sudden. I mean, he doesn't even LIKE Craig. We've NEVER liked Craig. He's always been more of a hindrance to us in all our adventures. We don't particularly like Cartman either. Goddamn the manipulative Fatass! Turning the entire male population school against us! I bet he's got them all thinking Stan and I are going to ass-rape them at our earliest convenience. That stupid, fucking, anti-Semitic, homophobic, neo-conservative, FAT SON-OF-A-WHORE!!!

"…I just DON'T get it, Kyle!" he says fervently. "There's nothing different about us! We still bleed red, we're still PEOPLE, why does everybody think there's something WRONG with being gay!?!"

I lose my patience. I snap.

"Because they suck at life! Because Cartman's got them wrapped around his little fucking finger!! And because you're still a self-conscious son of a bitch who's too big of a pussy to rise above all the petty insults of the stupid fuckers who don't understand love! Goddamnit, Stan, you PROMISED me you were going to take me out on the town, but all we've done is go to three places and made me listen to you whine and bitch about people who can't count to fucking twenty one without taking off their pants! This isn't a date! This isn't what normal people do! You are a LIAR and a PROMISE-BREAKER, and until you GET OVER YOURSELF and your PETTY fucking INSECURITIES, I'M DONE WITH YOU!!!!" I scream, standing up from my seat in the theater and storming out, tears welling up in my eyes as I run home.

I don't think that I'll forget the look on Stan's face before I break eye contact to leave as long as I live. I won't because it's the same look I wore on my face on "That Night" when he reacted so badly to my kisses. It's a look that no human being should ever have to wear.

The look that shows that your heart has been broken into millions of pieces.

I didn't want to break up with him, I really didn't. I love that boy. But I had to. I didn't have any other choice. There's no point in trying to be in a relationship with somebody who isn't ready for a relationship. And if your partner's not ready to be with you, then what the hell's the point in trying to be with them? It just causes pain all around.

Of course, that doesn't ease the pain I feel in my own heart as I sob myself to sleep. I can't help but feel that I've ruined things between us. The sobs only get worse when I look at the vase of seven perfect roses on my dresser. The floral reminder of the perfect-date-that-was-anything-but. Of what I ruined. He loved me enough to spend his own money on me. To convince his Dad to loan him the nice car for the night. And I ruined it, because he's too goddamn immature.

It's all for the best, but at the same time, it's all for the worst. I had everything I could want, and that Goddamn Craig ruined it all for us by making him doubt and question, regressing him by six months in less than six minutes.

I'll never make it up to him. And he'll never try to make it up with me. I'm certain of that. I broke his heart. He's not going to want anything to do with me. The thought of never being with Stan again, of not even talking to him, hearing his voice, seeing his eyes sparkle as he tells a little joke, of not being near him, it's just as painful as all of the hateful language that he shouted at me that night, and as painful as the language I used to break up with him.

I've ruined the best thing that will ever happen to either of us. And it's ALL that Goddamn Cartman's fault.

**-.-**

**Author's Notes: Another one that's pretty much all my effort. I love it. Not the subject, but I do love the way it came out.**

**On a side note: GOD it's hard writing the apprehension of someone waiting for a date when you've never had one to be apprehensive about waiting for. sigh C'est la vie…que será, sera, I guess.**

**Phoenix II**


	5. Chapter 5

**Revelations – Chapter Five**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Summary: The aftermath of the disast – I mean, date.**

**-.-**

I've spent all week in my room crying. I've spent all week looking at those roses Stan gave me on Saturday. They've been dying, one each day. Only one remains standing, its red color fading fast. In a way, I suppose it's a symbol of my relationship with Stan. It's slowly dying, with one tendril gasping for life, trying to fight both the world and the cruel fates that try to rob it of that precious gift, and losing.

My musings are interrupted from my mother's shouts from downstairs. "Kyle, bubby!! Stan's on the TV!!"

"The hell?" I say to myself, sitting upright in my bed and fumbling for my remote when she calls again.

"Come quick! Or turn on yours to public-access! They're interviewing him!!"

I sigh and turn it on, quickly flipping to the right channel. "He must be making it clear to the world he isn't gay."

A reporter has shoved a microphone in my ex-boyfriend's face. "So, the reason you're not playing in the biggest game of the season is personal?" he asks.

Stan, who looks absolutely terrible, replies in a hollow sounding voice. "Yeah."

"Is it PERSONAL-personal, or just personal?" What sort of college lets such a nosy bastard graduate with a degree in Journalism? No wonder he's working the sidelines for a backwater Public Access Station in Colorado.

"Little of both, I guess...but it'll get out anyway, so ... I'm not playing because I physically can't. I've been crying all week, and I've probably slept four hours out of the last 144. Because, last Saturday, I made a huge mistake," Stan says, trying to sound important and repentant and all sorts of things that are supposed to make people sympathize with him, offer him candy, and flowers, and pity sex…

"Oh and what was that, taking me out in public?" I ask at the TV.

The reporter takes this as a cue. "May I ask?"

To his credit, Stan sounds annoyed when he answers. "I was gonna say it anyway. My mistake was that I made my boyfriend break up with me. After the fight three weeks ago, I promised him that I would take him out for a night on the town, and that I was over my anxiety about being seen in a gay relationship. It turns out, I wasn't. At dinner, we got razzed for being together, and I spent the rest of the night obsessing over it. At the end, well, actually, in the middle of the movie, Kyle couldn't take it anymore, and he just stormed out. Kyle ... if you're watching this, or if your parents are ... I'm sorry."

"...Stan..." I say, tears welling up in my eyes again. Tears of sadness, and relief, and despair. Because he's finally doing what I've wanted him to do all this time, and there's nothing in it for me. He's probably moved on already. It's part of why I haven't been in school all week. I couldn't bear to see something like that, to see someone else hanging off his arm and doing things with him that I had been doing before I had to go get all stupid and throw him away.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be all you wanted me to be. I'm sorry I wasn't worthy of your love. I'm sorry for those six months of secrecy. I'm sorry for letting you get beat up. I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry..." He breaks off and starts crying. From the way his face looks, this isn't the first time this week he's shed tears.

The reporter looks quite uncomfortable as the camera cuts to a shot of his face. "Bob, uh...we're gonna kick it back to you...how's the play by play look from up there?"

The image shifts from a sobbing Stan to the game again, and I turn it off before burying my face in my hands. I'm speechless. He just confessed to everybody! Oh, Stan…

**-.-**

Three hours later there is a knock at my door. It's a little past eleven, and I have to wonder who it is.

"Oh God... Come in…" I say, trying to compose myself. I've been crying ever since Stan's televised confession. Tears of sadness, despair, but not relief. They've been replaced with tears of apprehension. What if his apology was an attempt to make nice with me so that I'd approve more easily of his new relationship, whoever it's with? What if there really is no hope for him and me anymore? What if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore? What if he's leaving me for good? What if I never get to see him again?

Stan staggers in, eyes red and puffy from crying, deep bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and looking really thin from not eating.

"I'm not gonna beg for you to take me back. I don't deserve it at all. I was just...wondering...if there was still a chance for us..." he says, his voice hollow and cracking.

I make a point of not looking at him. I don't think I'd be able to stay calm if I did. "I uh... You ... You confessed to everyone…"

"Yeah...I know. I caught hell for it from Dad when he and mum picked me up," he says.

"I bet you did." I'm still not looking at him. "Did you really mean it? I mean REALLY mean it?"

"I can't stand to be without you this long. It was a terrible thing I did to you. I lied to you. Again. I broke a promise I made to you. Again. You did what you had to do. But...I can't help but feel it shouldn't have gone down that way. That was supposed to be a HAPPY night. We were going to do everything a couple does together. We were going to make love, but I threw it all away..." he says, blaming himself. But it's NOT really his fault, it's MY fault. I'm the one who broke up with HIM. Not the other way around.

Why can't I ever be mad with him? "Perhaps it was a little too soon to be going out. Maybe we shoulda gone one step at a time." I finally break and look at him. "I mean, you…" I start to say, but I'm interrupted as I notice how worn and thin he looks. "HOLY SHIT! LOOK AT YOU! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU? YOU LOOK TERRIBLE!!" I rush over to him, like his collapse is imminent.

"I FEEL terrible," he says. "I haven't slept a minute since Tuesday, I haven't eaten since Wednesday morning, and I've been crying almost constantly since Saturday night. Any time I go anywhere, I remember being there with you. And I start crying, because I fucked up. Like I always do. I can't do anything right for you...I always end up hurting you somehow..."

"Oh, I never realized you felt that strongly Stan! And, that confession tonight in front of everyone, and I literally mean everyone…" I trail off to sniffle back tears. "You don't hurt me Stan, it hurts when I'm away from you. I understand you were scared, and you tried! I know you did! I'd have to be an asshole not to give you another chance."

"I'll just fuck it up again..." he says.

"You don't want another chance? I don't understand. You confess and almost beg for another chance, but now that you have it, you don't seem to want it." It's almost like he's going Goth again. I hurt him much more than Wendy did. He sounds so…morose. Like his dog died or something.

"Because I'm not worthy of it."

"We're entitled to make mistakes."

"Not as many as I've made!"

"You've learned from them! You proved that tonight!"

"That just means I won't make the same one...maybe. I'll still make them."

"No one is perfect Stan."

"You are..." What? Like hell I am!

"No I'm not. It's my fault all this happened."

"No it's not, I broke my promise to you!"

"It's my fault that 'us' even happened. I shoulda just kept my mouth shut that night and no one would have gotten hurt."

"You would have..." Well thanks, Captain Obvious. But I could deal with the pain of an unrequited love. But the pain from knowing that I hurt the person I love worse than anyone else ever could…I caused that, and I feel terrible because I shot myself in the foot when I did so.

"At least you would have been happy..." I tell him. He would have his nice little football team, and his nice little heterosexual friends who may or may not figure out what all the longing glances from his Jewish friend really mean.

"No I wouldn't have..." he says.

"You wouldn't have even known about my feelings, and life would have gone on as it should've. No getting beaten up or any public humiliations."

"You would've died a little inside, everyday...just like I have, every day this week. I'd still have my stupid obligations, living my life for the rest of the world."

I sniff. Goddamnit, why can't I hate him? "I still love you Stan."

"I figured...you haven't been at school all week. I shouldn't have been, either, except for practice..." At least I'm not the only one who's been miserable this week. Although, he did admit to being worse than me on TV first, and then directly to me. I've been crying all week, but at least I've slept and eaten!!

"I told you I'd never be able to stop loving you. And I forgive you for your mess ups! I mean, look what you did tonight! See how far you've come? A few months ago you wouldn't even kiss me if the door was unlocked! But look now! Don't you want there to be an 'us' again?" I ask, hoping against hope that he HASN'T found someone else, that he DOES still want to be with me, that he DOES want what we have to continue.

"Kind of...but I don't want to hurt you again. You're too important to me, Kyle," he says. You stupid fucking bastard, this ISN'T the time for noble gestures!! When it comes to whether or not we'll ever be able to be happy, if we'll ever have love, you DON'T offer to fall on the sword and sacrifice yourself!!

"It hurts not being with you, can't you understand that? You won't hurt me again. I trust you," I say, staring at him and imploring him to take that final step, and admit that he wants to be with me again. Because I sure as hell want to be with him again. That night in the movie theater was the biggest mistake I ever made, running out on him like that and breaking up with him.

"And that's the fucking problem! I will hurt you, trust or no! Because I always fuck up! And my fuckups hurt you!! You're too important for me to hurt all the time, and if that means not being with you...well, at least I'll have closure..." He says it like he assumes that it's a certainty that I actually DON'T want to be with him, that _I_ want to be with someone else, and that I know better than to put my trust in him.

"Well, it's still all about you isn't it!?! You can't seem to understand the fact that I. LOVE. YOU!! You can't keep living in fear of hurting me!! Look where it got us last time!! You need to understand that people out there won't always be accepting of us! I know that, but I don't care, because being with you makes me happy, and I just ignore the people who don't care for it! Because I don't care about them, I care about YOU!!" I hope I can get through to him. SOMEONE sure as hell needs to!!

"And I care about you...but I don't want anyone hurting you! Me or the world. And by trying to prevent the world hurting us, I hurt you...it's counter-productive. I...I...you...I...we...Kyle..." he says, words failing him as he turns into a pathetic mess that collapses onto me, crying again.

I'm more than happy to hold him tight, relishing in his warmth and his scent. "Oh, why can't you understand Stan? I'm not hurt by them, I don't care about them, I block them out! If I had to make a choice between the rest of the world and you, my choice would ALWAYS be you! Please try to understand where I'm coming from," I beg him, leading him over to the bed and just sitting there with him, holding him while he cries.

He's sobbing into my chest. "I do! But I can't! I've worked so long trying to make everybody happy...I can't just stop that."

My grip on Stan drops. He still doesn't fucking get it. He says he sees my point of view, but if he does, he's doing a damn good job of ignoring it! "So, everyone else is still more important to you than I am."

"I want them to understand! I need them to understand! And until they do...I just can't be comfortable..." he blubbers, sad and confused, despondent.

"But can't YOU understand they WON'T accept us? A few might, yes, but most will NOT accept us! And there is nothing you or anyone can do about it!" I say. He's GOT to ignore the fucking world! They don't give a shit about him, why should he give so much of a shit about them?

"Then I'll never be truly happy...even if I'm with the person I'm meant to share my life, my home, and my body with...if just one person isn't happy with me, I won't be either."

My voice drops to become a soft whisper. "That's a horrible thing to say! How could you say such a thing? Why are they so important? Why do you care about what others think of you so much? What have they ever done for you? Nothing! They won't care about you, they won't worry about you, they won't try to help you... They won't love you..."

"I...I know...but...but...they...they're the ones in charge..." he responds. Why is he making excuses to try and make himself not love me? Is he THAT self conscious?

"Why are you so scared of them? Are these nobodies, these passers-by, so much more important to you then someone you 'love'?"

"N...n...no... Wait, why were there air quotes around love?" Oh, goody, he picked up on that.

"Because you seem to love them more, more concerned about them, trying to impress and please them, while I'm tossed to the side as a mistake!" I exclaim, my temper rising to the top and soon to get the better of me.

"You're not a mistake! Me not being worthy of you is a mistake! I thought I made that clear! Why would you think that!?! I love you! I just...want...I want..." He doesn't even know what the fuck he wants! Why do I put up with this idiot!?!

"I don't understand!!" I exclaim. "You love me, I love you, we want 'us', what else matters?"

"I just don't want to think I wasted so much of my life! 16 years doing what I was told, what was expected of me! For what? To throw it all away when this perfect boy comes along and opens my eyes? And now it doesn't mean anything? Why the fuck not? Why? Just because I suddenly like dick instead of pussy? Does it mean I can't be me anymore? Why not?" Another Stan against the World rant. Goddamnit.

"But... this is you! This is what you are, what you always have been! Everyone has just been telling you otherwise! But you broke away from them! If you're strong enough to do that, then a few looks and comments shouldn't get to you so much! Besides, I'd be right by your side! Isn't that enough for you?"

"It should be. I want with all my heart to say yes. And you want me with all my heart to say yes. And if I could just surrender to my heart, I'd be SO much better off!! My brain though...tells me I need to do what's expected of me. Go to college, get a job, get married...can I do that with you?" Oh. He's Intellectually Confused. When did he get all philosophical on me? When did he become SMART enough to get all philosophical on me?

"If only you'd listen to your heart, close your mind off and open your eyes, you'd see the answer is 'yes.' You could still do those things with me!"

"Then lets!" he says excitedly, sitting up and grabbing my hand. "Let's go, tonight! Let's elope! If you'll have me, we'll steal Dad's car and credit card, go to Vegas and get married!"

"What?" I exclaim. "But I-...You... wait... this defies everything you've been talking about!"

"If we don't now, I'll only change my mind!"

"... Stan... if you really love me, if this is really what you want, there should be no issue of you changing your mind..." I knew it. All this whole time he was lying to me. Apparently he didn't ever mean it. Explains his constant hesitation…at least before the beatings. I don't know about afterwards…

"I mean my mind will find reasons not to! I'll second guess myself. If I don't do something as soon as I think of it, I won't. I'm terrible for being like that, but I will..."

"What if you have second thoughts afterwards?" I don't know what would be worse: us never getting married, or us getting married but then Stan breaking it off because he had second thoughts.

"I won't. If I do it and it lasts twelve hours, I never think 'what if I'd...' So...you wanna? You wanna get back together and get married? Or even just engaged?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over my hand.

I smile lovingly at him. "You sure go from one end to the other quickly, don't you?"

"You're giving me hope," he tells me. "I haven't had any all week. And it's soaking in, Kyle...it's soaking in."

This forces me to blush. "If this is what you want, what you really want, then yes, let's do it."

"Kyle...will you marry me?"

Words I never thought I'd hear him say. My response, of course, is "Of course!"

"Oh, I love you!!!" he says, and he hugs me. "Seal it with a kiss? I'm sorry I don't have a proper engagement ring for you, but..." he trails off as he removes his class ring and slides it on my finger.

I'm almost crying as Stan puts it on. "Stan, Oh God, I love you! So fucking much!"

"I love you too Kyle!! With this ring...I pronounce you my fiancée!"

"Hehe, you're too cute!" I say, blushing as I examine the ring on my finger that shows me that Stan really DOES love me. He does! We're getting married! He loves me, and that's that! "A kiss?" I ask.

"A kiss!" he replies, smooching me.

I take that kiss and extend it, kissing him lovingly. "You know, that night never did end as it should have." I wonder if he can take a hint. I can't think of any better way to cap this night than to make love with Stan.

"That it didn't!!" he exclaims, looking shocked as he realizes this. "But...I wanna tell my parents first!! C'mon!!" Huh? But before I can think anything else, Stan's grabbed my hand and dragged me out of bed. I barely have time to protest, and make him give me time to change into going-out-and-over-to-someone's-house clothes instead of my pajamas.


	6. Chapter 6

**Revelations – Chapter Six**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Summary: At Stanley's house after they get engaged.**

**-.-**

Stan opens the door to his house, dragging me in behind him, peeking inside andcalling out "Mom? Dad? You around?" I can't believe it…he's so eager to do this, to come out to his parents, to be in an actual relationship with me! No more hiding! We'll be together…ACTUALLY _TOGETHER!!_

"What the fuck do you want now, Stanley? And what the fuck are you doing with Kyle?" Randy shouts from the couch, where he's surrounded with Sharon and beer bottles like the one he holds in his right hand and takes a swig from as we enter.

"Randy, leave him alone," Sharon chides. "Stanley, what do you want to tell us?"

"We're getting married!!!" he announces gleefully, holding out my hand with his class ring on it for his parents to see. Christ, that was straightforward. Maybe a little _too_ straightforward, judging my Randy's reaction to this announcement.

"WHAT!?! You sneak away before I can even get you back in here to that little fag's house, and you come back with him in tow...as your _fiancée_!?! I thought I raised you better, you little twerp!!" he shouts and us, slamming his beer down onto the coffee table. I can't help but flinch. I hate the word fag... I'm not a fag, I'm in love. There's nothing faggy about being in love.

"Fuck you, Dad!" Stan shouts back. "I love Kyle!" he says, drawing me closer. "And don't call him a fag! He's a good, loving person!"

"Why you little jackass! NO SON OF MINE IS MARRYING ANOTHER BOY!!" Randy shouts, standing up and heading towards Stan and me, fist raised and a look of drunken rage on his face.

"Oh shit... Stan," I whimper, holding onto him tighter.

"I fucking am, Dad!" Stan shouts back, matching his Dad's volume. "I'm marrying Kyle and you can't do anything about it!"

"The hell I can't! I can fucking kill you both!!" he rages.

"Randy, calm down!" Sharon pleads.

"No! Stan, you break it off with him this instant!" he orders.

"NO!!" I shout. "He loves me and there's nothing YOU can do about it!"

"You insolent little Jesus-killer! You corrupted my boy!!" he screams, looming over us. "Stan, I gave you an order and you will obey it! I'm your father!!"

"FUCK! YOU!!" Stan screams before he punches his Dad in the jaw and knocks him flat on his back, out cold.

"Holy shit...he... he just ...Stan..." I sputter, holding onto him for dear life.

"... Ow..." he whimpers, shaking his hand. "That hurt...but...that felt good. Mum? Am I in trouble?"

"Of course not! He deserved every bit of that! You take your fiancée upstairs and celebrate!"

I'm still kinda speechless after that father/son shouting match and watching Stan stand up to his Dad, going so far as to even knock him out! "Wow..."

"You hear that, Kyle? We can go 'celebrate'!!" Stan says cheerily, lifting his eyebrows to indicate HOW he intends to celebrate.

I blush and stammer out a reply. "Err...y-y-yeah…"

"We can finally finish off last Saturday!" He sounds very enthusiastic about the possibility.

My blush deepens. "W-w-what if he wakes up?"

"Fuck him. He's gonna know better than to mess with me!"

"Hehe I bet he does now... Thanks," I say.

"Anything for you!! G'night, mum!!" Stan says, before dragging me towards the stairs to his room. When we get there, I take a look around his room.

"Your room is a mess!!" I declare, horrified. "It looks like a bomb went off!!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry...but that's what happens when you're tearing apart your room out of anger and sadness and general patheticness...bed's clean though..." he informs me.

"Ah ... well, yes, the bed looks OK. It survived most of the destruction, I see, though it's still very messy," I chide, starting on straightening it out. My mother would explode if she found out I'd become a neat freak.

"We're just gonna mess it up worse, just leave it..." Stan says impatiently.

"But it's comfier neat, sheets and blankets won't get tangled then," I explain, and keep fixing it and straightening the sheets and covers.

"Well...OK...so I can snuggle under the covers with you when we finish?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah," I reply, blushing because "when we finish" implies that we're going to be doing something…

"You done? I wanna get on the bed and then get IT on...on the bed..." he asks as I tuck in the comforter.

"Y-y-yeah I am," I say a little nervously.

He leans forward to kiss me. "I'm never gonna let you leave me..." he murmurs as our lips connect.

"What makes you think I'd ever try and leave you?" I ask.

"This week? I'm never gonna let that happen again!" he proclaims.

"It won't... I'm sure you've made sure of that now."

"I told the entire State how I feel about you! I mean...how much more out can I get?" he asks, a little confused.

"Heh, that's more then enough. Well… I suppose the whole country…" I say, pulling back in mock contemplation.

"I'm not THAT good at football..." he says.

"Sure you are! When you're a famous football player, you can tell everyone!"

"You just want me to propose to you all over again at halftime of the national championship, don't you!?!" he accuses playfully.

"Mayyyyyyyyyybe," I say teasingly.

"Kyle!!" he whines. "Well, we've gotta get us into a good football school then!! But first, we need to get undressed!"

I freeze into a blush.

"C'mon, don't be modest...you've wanted this longer that I think I want to know about..." he says, reaching for me.

"Maybe ..."

"C'mon ... it's what you were dreaming about on that night. Remember?"

"Well, that dream was, the morning after... but lead to another session, before I woke up ... like every other time ..."

"So? Why don't you wanna take me for a drive in real life?"

"I do!" I insist. "But, err... I've never... you know…"

"Aww, don't worry...I can be gentle..."

"Do you want to? Really want to?" I ask.

"Yes! Why don't you believe me? I love you!"

"I do! I do! Just … you know… making sure."

"I'm not going to chicken out on you, Kyle! I love you, and I want to be with you! I want to wear your ass as a hat for all eternity!!" he proclaims, just like in the dream!!

"I love you too!!"

"Do...you want to be with me?"

"Oh yes, more then anything Stan!"

"Well then, let's start!!" he says, pulling me in for a big kiss.

I kiss him back. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my GOD this is it!!

Stan continues to kiss me while reaching down to pull my shirt off. Oh God, this is better then any of the dreams I've had!! In response, I pull him closer. He starts pulling my shirt up and over my head. I keep kissing. I don't wanna pull away to get the shirt off.

Stan protests into my mouth. He wants to be able to explore my torso, and … other places… I stop to help get the shirt off quicker, then quickly take Stan's off too. He moans and pulls me onto the bed.

"Mmmm... see, comfier when it's made!" I proclaim.

"Yes..." he says, running his hands over my newly-exposed flesh. "Oh, God...I love you!!" he says as he starts kissing my chest.

"Oh God... You have no idea how long I've wanted this..." I tell him as I run my hands through his soft hair.

"Mmm, I definitely don't...but I do know that I want you now!!" he tells me.

"Mmmmm, hearing that makes me happier then you can imagine!" I reply.

"I want you now! I want you now!" he exclaims, reaching for my pants. "I want you NOW!!" he exclaims, and he kisses me deeply.

"Ohhhhh Stan!" I moan, kissing back. "I love you! I love you so goddamn much!!"

"You're my perfect Kyle! Perfect in every way!" he tells me as he removes my pants. "And I love you just as much!!"

"You make me feel happier every second! How do you do it to me?" I ask, pulling him back for another kiss.

"I don't know! But I know I love you...and I want to make us complete!!"

"Stan... You know there's no turning back after this, right? You do understand that, don't you?"

"I'm not going to turn back! I love you, Kyle! I'm going to marry you, and then we're going to buy a house, and adopt a kid or two, and I'll wear your ass as a hat for all eternity!" I don't wanna question him, but…

"What about everyone else?" I ask. Please...please don't let him care anymore about them…

"I HONESTLY no longer care! They can go procreate with themselves! I've got a Kyle to procreate with!"

I feel moved to tears. "Perfect answer…"

He beams. "Now...can we get on with the show?"

"Of course we can!!"

"Good! I'm still in pants!" he exclaims. "Why am I still in pants!?!"

"I have no idea!! Shall we fix that?" I ask, quickly taking them off. "There! Much better!!"

"Yes! Now...I need to get you ready, Kyle. Where's my lube?"

"Do you have any?" I ask, uneasily.

"Of course I have some!!" he says defensively, rummages through his bedside table drawer until he finds something. "Ah! Here it is!"

I'm feeling a little nervous all of a sudden. "Good…" I say, hesitantly.

"You're not gonna back out on me, are you?"

"What? No, of course not! Just a little nervous, you know, first time, and all that."

"It's my second first time...and it's the most important one I'll ever have. Because it's my first time with the boy I'm going to marry!" he says as he opens the lube and starts getting me ready to take him.

"Who was your –" I begin, before deciding that maybe I don't wanna know.

"Who was my first? Wendy. She was a good lay, but...there just wasn't a spark. And it was over so quickly...and then she just left..."

"I always told you she was a whore..." I remind him.

"Yeah, you did...but can we NOT talk about her now?"

"Eww of course... Let's just focus on this!" I say, as he finishes preparing me and slides in.

I am absolutely filled by him, and my first time is _definitely_ going to be hard to beat!! Even hotel sex, and honeymoon sex, and home-christening sex, won't be able to beat this...this is WONDERFUL! And, unfortunately over too quickly. I think it's BECAUSE it was my first time...something about pressure. I don't really remember...

"Mmmmm...ah-ah-ah-OHGODKYLEILOVEYOU!!!" he shouts as he comes, wave after wave that I feel only as movements thanks to him being smart enough to use protection…

"Mmmmmm, God I love you too!" I say, and pull him close.

"Oh...Kyle...I love you so much..." he says, embracing me, still sticky from my orgasm and pulls covers over us.

"Love you too! So damn much!" I say and snuggle up close to him before appraising the situation. "Aww, the bed is messed up again!"

"You can fix it in the morning," he tells me.

"Mmm, if it goes anything like my dream, it'll be worse in the morning!"

"Mmm...we'll see," he says, with a devilish tone of voice that hints that, YES, there WILL be more sex in the morning.

"You know you want it," I tease him.

"Hehe...forever and ever!" he replies. Another perfect answer from my perfect Stan…my fiancée, my lover, and, above ALL … my friend. We went through hard times, but we pulled through. Even after a period of uncertainty, our relationship is stronger than ever. And I'm confident that it'll last.

**Fin**

**-.-**

**Author's Notes: OK…You know the drill with any sexy-action. The full version is going on my deviantART, and what you just read was edited for your (and my, to be honest :D) protection.**

**Phoenix II**


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